


Nevertheless (Despite their Sins)

by localfreak



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Australia, Family, Gen, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-War, Pre-Epilogue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-24
Updated: 2013-10-24
Packaged: 2017-12-30 08:38:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1016475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/localfreak/pseuds/localfreak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-War. Hermione travels to Australia to face up to what she has done.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Additional notes: It has come to my attention some of my fic has been uploaded to a website I do not trust. I would like to make it abundantly clear I do not give permission for my work to be shared on any other website (linking to my fic's URL is fine), or uploaded anywhere without my knowledge and expressed permission. Quite frankly, if I want to upload it somewhere I'll do it myself.

Dr Wilkins looked up and smiled absently at his next patient as the nurse called her in. 

‘Good afternoon.’

‘H-hello,’ she replied a little nervously. Well, he was used to people being nervous. She was a nice looking girl, primly turned out in linen trousers and a t-shirt, with short dark hair that curled, framing her face. 

‘Tourist or a fellow ex-pat, then?’ He gestured to the chair. ‘Hop up and let’s have a look.’

‘I’m just visiting at the moment, needed the holiday.’ 

‘Ah, student is it? Cramming for exams all night?’ Her face did have a pinched too-thin look. There was something familiar about it too, but he couldn’t place it. 

‘Something like that.’ 

‘Well let’s have a look, just lie back and open your mouth please.’ She did so, twitching slightly as the chair slowly eased back and up in that familiar mechanical motion. ‘I promise I’ll talk you through everything, at the moment I’m just going to have a look around, but if I do anything else I will explain it, just try to relax.’ 

She couldn’t smile with her mouth open and him peering in, but she gave a short, hard breath as if trying to forcibly calm herself.

‘We moved here years ago my wife and I,’ he chatted lightly, ‘the weather alone would make it worth it. You have very good teeth by the way, shows good habits, although you have some mottling on your cheek, have you been ill lately?’ she shrugged.   
‘Well, I’ll let you up. I can’t see anything that would cause a tooth ache although there is some sign of grinding on your back molars. If it has been hurting you, it could be from clenching your jaw; plenty of people do without knowing it, especially if you’ve been under exam stress.’ 

‘Oh, good.’ She sat up as he moved away to scribble his notes.

‘Yes. Nothing to worry about that a bit of rest shouldn’t put right, but if you do have any more trouble either come and see me, or see your regular dentist when you get home.’

She looked a little sad, still. 

‘I will. Thank you, Doctor.’ She darted out quickly.

‘Nervous young thing,’ Ann, the dental nurse commented to him. ‘I don’t think you were right about the exams though.’

‘Oh?’

‘No. She reminded me of Dana’s kid, for some reason. Ex-forces.’

‘Well, either way I do hope she does have a good holiday, she certainly looked like she needed it. Right,’ Dr Wilkins said tidying up his workstation. ‘Who’s next?’

Ron and Harry were waiting for her outside, mooching around examining the inflatable beach toys and tourist trinkets displayed cheerfully outside a small newsagents.

They looked up as she approached and she felt like a failure.

‘I couldn’t. Not there. He looks so normal.’

‘Aw Hermione,’ Harry awkwardly wrapped an arm around her, Ron, even more awkwardly, copying the motion on her other side.  
‘I don’t know if it’s even worth it,’ she whispered, her throat horribly tight. ‘They don’t remember anything and they seem happy. It’s not as if-’ her voice wobbled, ‘it isn’t as if I was quite the daughter they wanted, you know. I wasn’t very good.’  
‘Come on,’ Ron murmured, ‘Let’s go back to the hotel.’ 

Hermione sniffed. She had faced untold terrible things over the past year, she could manage to hold off her embarrassing tears until she got to the hotel. 

She’d been planning on coming on her own. After all, it had been her decision to bespell her parents in the first place, to keep them safe. It was a crime, too, although she knew that the ministry would rather not officially find out about what she’d done. They had enough on their hands without the thorny issue of whether to press charges on someone who was being hailed as a war hero. Harry and Ron cottoned on to what she planned, though, and refused. They listened to all her arguments, that they all deserved a break, that Ron should be with his family right now, that Harry had Teddy to think about and besides they never really knew her parents in the first place (mostly because she wouldn’t let them meet her friends for reasons she’d rather not look too deeply at). Ron and Harry listened and then simply said no. They were coming. Molly understood. She and Andromeda could look after Teddy for a while, it would do them both good and they would never leave Hermione to do this on her own.  
What she suspected they knew, although had not mentioned, was the fact that Hermione had still not decided whether she was going to reverse the spell or not. She had seen her mother buying a paper in one of the little shops near to the surgery that morning, and made an appointment. 

She had nearly burst into tears when her father leaned over her, he looked at her in that calm, professional manner he looked at any nervous patient, but he used the same aftershave he always had. She could even picture the smoky grey Marks and Spencer bottle in their neat little bathroom cabinet at home. His hair was lighter and skin a little brown from the sun (though not too brown, Hermione had inherited her parents’ paranoia about sunburn and had insisted Ron in particular cover up in the highest factor sun cream they could lay hands on). So much of him was the same though, the softness of his voice, the little glint of light on his glasses, even the antiseptic smell that was undoubtedly generic to all dentist surgeries the world over was a strong, sharp reminder of home. He had taught her to ride a bike, cycling through the local park. They had gone pond-dipping together one summer, collecting creatures in jars- little fish and leeches and water beetles- to look at before returning them carefully to their habitat. Even now, she could remember the warm feeling of his hand, holding hers as they recited the green cross code on the walk to school every morning, her satchel swinging between them.

Hermione sat on the chair in their hotel suite and covered her eyes. Harry nudged her until she accepted a cup of tea. She didn’t really want it, but she knew that it would make him feel better if she took it. 

‘Hermione?’ She shook her head. 

‘Just let her be for a bit, mate. You just sit there Hermione, me and Ron will be on the balcony with the chess set if you need us.’

‘Thanks,’ she croaked, feeling Ron squeeze her shoulder as he followed Harry out, undoubtedly to worry about her where she couldn’t hear them.


	2. Chapter 2

‘I’m afraid for you, sweetheart.’ Her mother had said, after another god-awful row about school. ‘I’m afraid that you don’t tell us anything, and the letters we get home are just the tip of the iceberg. I know you’re a teenager now. I don’t want to feel like there’s this wall between us.’

‘I don’t know how to make it better, Mum,’ she’d said, honestly, wetly. ‘I can’t help it. There’s so much going on, there are people who need me-‘

‘You’re a child, Hermione. I love you but you are a child, my child. Adults should be solving problems and fighting bad teachers and whatever else. They should be protecting you.’

‘They do, but Harry-'

‘Harry is a child too, and from what little you have told me, he needs someone to protect him more than most.’

They were falling into row-territory again. Shouts of _You will NOT go back to that school._ and _You already have nightmares WHY won’t you let us protect you? We’ll find another school, a normal one _from her frightened parents and her own, vicious replies. _You don’t understand_ and _I am not normal. I’ll never be normal. I wish I’d never been born. I wish you’d stop pretending I’m something I’m not._ __

__And through it all, the look of confused pain in her father’s eyes the first time she told him she wouldn’t be coming home for the holidays._ _

__The awkwardness when she made them give her money for new magical books, instead of asking for Christmas and birthday presents they could give to her properly; her mother had to leave the room when, over New Year’s lunch her godmother Angie asked her about a famous author’s new fiction book and she realised she didn’t even know who he was, let alone what he had written about._ _

__She knew, to her parents, it was as if she had become a different child in the night. As if the wizarding world had stolen her and the child it kept sending back wasn’t one they recognised._ _

__One summer, when Hermione was nine, she developed a passion for art galleries. Every chance she got she pestered her mother to let her go to this one, that one. Her father took her to the lakes for a week and bought enough coloured pencils, watercolour pencils, drawing pads and charcoals to last a lifetime. She spent the weeks before their trip poring over every book the library had on landscapes, on perspective drawing, on different techniques. Every day of their holiday, she had a sketchbook clutched to her grubby hands, charcoal on her nose and her father was happy to take her to every beauty spot he could, rain or shine, whilst she sketched and dreamed. They visited the Beatrix Potter museums where she squinted so hard at the different pictures of fungi, trying to see the beauty the artist had found in them, that her dad made her go to the opticians when they got back.  
A few weeks after she got home, she realised her Child’s Chemistry Set was missing. She went ballistic. Her mother had given it to her second cousin, James. ‘You hadn’t touched it since last summer,’ her mother had said, ‘it was just gathering dust dear and you can always borrow it back if you decide you want to play with it again.’ _ _

__With the war over she knew their rift was mostly her fault. Always so obsessive about things, throwing herself in with a determination not just to learn magic but to be the best witch there was, and her parents, like her old toys and books, she forgot about, until she realised they weren’t there anymore for her. Not in the same way. She had shut them out and unlike old toys they changed too, they were afraid for her._ _

__If she revealed to them now what she had done, they would be afraid of her._ _

__Hermione had never been a romantic person, but in those few moments when she had considered her future she had never imagined marrying anyone without her father standing to give her away whilst her mother beamed in some ridiculous hat. Her mum loved ridiculous hats, and bemoaned that she hardly ever got to wear them. Sometimes, usually near Christmas when spirits were particularly giddy, they would go into Debenhams and Marks and try on all the hats between them, giggling at their reflections in the mirror. They’d usually finish days like that with a fancy cocoa from one of the cafes before they headed for home, laden with bags of good things (mostly books)._ _

__She was mourning them. She could do this. Mourn them as if they were dead, and heaven was this Australian sunshine and lives without the stress and worry of a troublesome, bad-tempered daughter who put their lives at risk and then messed around with their memories without seeking any sort of consent._ _

__Hermione went to the bathroom and washed her face, looking at herself in the glass. The jut of her jaw looked arrogant, she knew, but also determined, as she glared at herself._ _

__‘You’ve made your own bed, my girl,’ she said, quoting her mother. ‘So you’ll just have to lie in it.’_ _

__And with that, Hermione strode to the balcony and sat, down on one of the plastic chairs, watching Harry and Ron play chess as the sun set. They glanced over at her but when she didn’t speak up, politely continued their game. Ron, as usual, won.  
As the winner, Ron announced he was picking their tea and it would be fish and chips in the restaurant downstairs. They all trooped down together walking three-abreast as if they were back in Hogwarts._ _

__The downstairs restaurant had several small tables against the balconies, looking out to the sea, and the three of them, by force of habit headed for the same one. It was, Hermione noticed, not only the one that would afford them the best opportunity to cast privacy spells, but also provided the best view of all the exits in the room. She knew, from the occasional glance too and a few caught words from the staff that they thought the three of them were ex-army, possibly back from Iraq or Afghanistan or wherever muggle Britain was busiest these days. She felt a bit awkward about it but, as Ron pointed out quietly to her one evening, when he’d woken her with a screaming nightmare and the two of them had huddled by the telly, trying not to disturb Harry, they were soldiers, in a way, the muggles weren’t far wrong. It was a good explanation, too, for the three of them sharing a family suite between them, and for the needle-sharp reactions that still caused them some embarrassment. The first time someone had dropped a heavy case at the airport the three of them had ducked low and reached for their wands before anyone could blink._ _

__She told the boys whilst they were eating. ‘I think we should just go home, the-the Wilkins’,’ (nor her parents, she didn’t deserve to call them parents after all, and her parents were _dead_ ) ‘-the Wilkins’ are much happier here. Without me.’_ _

__‘That’s because they don’t remember you.’ Ron interrupted._ _

__‘We, ever since I got my letter it’s never been easy for them.’ Hermione strove to sound reasonable and measures. ‘And when I cast the spell I did make sure they won’t miss me. That’s what I told them, they never had a daughter, they never wanted one.’  
‘Hermione-‘ Harry interrupted._ _

__‘It’s a lovely place here, isn’t it? They’ll be happy growing old together here. There certainly wouldn’t be any rows- it was always me, and going away to school, that caused all the rows and the hurt.’_ _

__‘Hermione, you’re nuts.’ Harry told her. ‘And, don’t get angry, but if you think me and Ron don’t know you well enough to know why you’re doing this then you’re definitely mental.’_ _

__‘What do you mean? I’m just trying to be logical about –‘_ _

__‘You’re afraid,’ Ron told her firmly. ‘You’re afraid because you know they’ll be angry and upset with you for making them forget. And me and Harry know that, we’re not saying you shouldn’t be. But we’ve come all this way, and you’ve never been a wimp Hermione.’_ _

__‘It’s the right thing to do, you know it is.’ Harry added, ‘They’re living a lie, and you owe them the truth, Hermione.’  
‘But they’ll be so angry.’ She couldn’t help it, she thought, after all the death, there had been enough tears already but her throat ached again as she tried not to cry._ _

__‘Then they’ll be angry, but they need to know. You can’t keep them under a spell for ever.’_ _

__Hermione nodded._ _


	3. Chapter 3

They needed to make a move. The surgery had been a bad idea, anyway, too many interruptions and ideally they needed to undo the spell on both of the Drs Wilkins together, as it had been cast on both of them the same way. But it was hard, they didn’t want to scare them after all.

‘It’ll have to be in their house,’ Ron said, finally, over a beer in the hotel bar, the three of them sat close around the table, heads bent together. In a moment of disjointedness, Hermione realised that they would look, to an outsider, exactly as they did at Hogwarts, even as little first years huddling together to work out how to smuggle Norbert out of the castle. 

‘We don’t want to frighten them though,’ Harry said. ‘Probably if you or me knock and the door and pretend to be lost or something. Or ask to use the loo. We can’t risk you knocking, Hermione, in case your dad recognises you.’

‘We could do it on Sunday afternoon,’ Ron added. ‘That way the surgery is closed, but it’s day time so they won’t be as worried if two random blokes turn up on their doorstep. We can just be sight-seers who got caught short.’

 

It was a reasonable plan. Hermione couldn’t see her father turning them away suspiciously for that. She stayed under Harry’s cloak slightly behind them as they knocked.

‘No answer,’ Ron said. 

‘The car’s there though,’ Harry commented. ‘Maybe they’ve gone for a walk.’

‘Typical. Sorry, ‘Mione.’ 

‘It’s okay, Ron, let’s just go-‘ Harry and Ron exchanged a look and each reached out for her as they apparated. 

And reappeared inside the house.

‘What are you doing?’

‘Breaking in,’ Ron said reasonably. ‘Keep quiet though, the neighbours might still be in.’

‘Ron, why have you and Harry decided that we should break in? What happened to not scaring them?’

‘Well, we didn’t want to, Hermione,’ Harry said in a reasonable voice, looking round at the neat little dining table, the dishes in the sink and almost without noticing going to wash them. ‘But look at it this way,’ he said, adding washing up liquid to the bowl, ‘If we went back now, and came back some other day someone might have seen us, and thought it was odd.’

‘And the two of you disapparating on the step wasn’t odd.’

‘People see what they want to see. You know that. Anyway, as well as that it was hard enough for you to psych yourself up to come here in the first place. Me and Ron didn’t want you to start second guessing yourself again.’

‘What do we do now?’

‘We wait till they come back. If they aren’t back by about eight or so we’ll head back to the hotel and try again- don’t want to frighten them to death by creeping around at night, but it’s still daylight. Harry’s already tidying up for them-‘

Harry looked down and made a small noise of surprise. Hermione noticed he did tend to tidy things away without realising what he was doing sometimes.

‘So really they won’t have much to complain about. They’ll think it was random house-elves.’

Ron grinned broadly and sat down on the squashy couch. Hermione sighed and looked around her. It was awkward standing in their house- their house without her. There were a few photographs on the sideboard of her parents but none, of course, of her cousins or godparents. There was a photograph of some sort of party on the beach, her mother and father grinning broadly surrounded by strangers. She had cut them off from their life in England, and they had found new people, new friends. 

‘I will give you ten seconds to tell me what the hell you are doing in my house, before I phone the police,’ her father’s voice, low and angry and perhaps a bit frightened made her turn around. She put the picture down carefully.

He blinked, ‘I know you,’ he said. ‘You were in the surgery yesterday.’

‘I’m sorry, Dr Wilkins,’ she said, ‘We’re not here to cause trouble, we just didn’t want to wait on the step attracting attention.’ She took a step towards him.

‘Monica, phone the police.’

‘No, wait-‘ Ron reached forward. Hermione’s mother swore as the mobile phone slipped out of her hands. 

‘Please, please listen. And if you want to call the police after you’ve heard me then that’s fine, but I’ve come such a long way to find you. I’m going about it all wrong.’

‘Wendell, what is this?’ Hermione’s mother asked, her eyes darting between the two of them. ‘She- she looks a bit like you what-?’

They hadn’t noticed Harry in the kitchen. A sweet glow filled the room, a calming spell.

‘Please,’ Hermione said. ‘I know this is going to sound crazy but a few years ago, before you moved here, you were put under a spell.’

Her parents stared at her with frightened eyes. ‘I know you don’t believe me, and you think I’m mad or maybe frightening and I’m so sorry about that, but I’m just here to take the spell off and if, you then decide you want me to put it back on then I will and you will never hear of me again. I promise you. I – I wronged you both, once, you see, because there was a war on and I was frightened for you and now I need to make things right.’

She raised her wand. Her mother and father, still under the influence of the calming spell, looked concerned rather than afraid anymore.

Hermione closed her eyes.

‘Oh god. What. Oh god. Hermione?’

Hermione opened her eyes. Her parents looked the same as they had before, but now there was a spark of something, of recognition in their eyes. 

‘Hermione _what have you done_?’

‘I’m sorry.’ She burst into tears. ‘I’m so sorry, but they would have killed you and I- I just wanted you safe.’

Ron and Harry stood back, watching her and her parents worriedly.

Two sets of arms came around her, two bodies pressed against her, but it wasn’t the bony, awkward hugs of her friends. She could smell her father’s aftershave; feel the rings on her mother’s hands digging into her side.

They were angry. And sad. And frightened. And maybe living as Mr and Mrs Wilkins, they had been content, but Hermione had forgotten one thing.

They were her parents, and they loved her.


End file.
